


M: Evil Queen of Numbers

by LadySt0rm



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Getting Together, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgasm Denial, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-02-03 15:24:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12751008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySt0rm/pseuds/LadySt0rm
Summary: Bond needs to be taught a lesson, M thought in the wake of an Incident.(James wants to be taught to please M.)





	M: Evil Queen of Numbers

**Author's Note:**

> Another story found, this time from the depths of my mobile phone. I'd wonder how I could've forgotten about writing the fic, but I know my memory (or lack thereof) well.

M. Also known as the Iron Lady of Steel. Evil Queen of Numbers. Bitch of the Highest Order. Awe, fear and jealousy followed in her wake daily. James sometimes wondered if he ever felt the same as the majority of MI6. Awe? Yes, for the way she managed MI6 day after day, even as a member of the fairer sex. Fear? Not in the traditional sense, but more than anything, James feared her disappointment. She had been the one who had recruited him into the Service when he had been a mere teenager. Slowly but surely, she had groomed him so that he had grown into the position that he held today, as a double 0 agent.

He owed her...everything, he acknowledged to himself.

As for jealousy...he could never be jealous of M herself, but of the attention she bestowed others...he had to try hard to suppress that jealousy.

Yet, James’ attraction to her was very real. It was filial, in that she was the mother he never had, yet he was also in love with her. If she wanted to turn him over her knees and spank him for punishment, he would not object. If she wanted him to lick her out and pleasure her, he would also not object.

All of that explained why the first thing he did when he returned from a mission was to break into her house. “And what are you doing here?” M demanded in annoyance when she entered her living room.

James shrugged and attempted to sound casual even as his eyes drank in the sight of her. “You always said I should report for debriefing immediately after my mission, Ma’am.”

M’s glare was icy enough to freeze water. “Not in my house, 007.” Her eye landed on the glass of scotch in his hand. James winced at the venom in that sentence. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to rile M up like this.

Upon taking a closer look at M, James noticed that she looked rather tired and drawn. Realising that he was making things difficult for her after what was probably a very long day, James straightened to attention contritely. “I'm sorry, Ma’am. I'll just tidy up and get out of your hair.”

M narrowed her eyes at the recalcitrant agent suspiciously. She knew that he got his kicks out of teasing her and ruffling her feathers, but it was the first time she’d seen him back down so quickly.

Bond flushed slightly at the wary look in her eye. “You must be tired by now, M.” He said quietly.

Deciding not to look a gift horse in its mouth, M snorted before leaving for her bedroom. “Be in my office at 8am sharp tomorrow, Bond.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Came the unexpectedly respectful reply from behind her.

* * *

  
The next day, James arrived at the office on time in a rare show of punctuality.

“Well, someone’s early,” Eve Moneypenny commented sarcastically. “Never thought I’d see you bend over backwards to please M.”

“She _is_ my boss,” James told his colleague evenly, suppressing a surge of annoyance at the caustic comment. Usually, he’d give as good as he got, but he was simply not in the mood to trade barbed witticisms with Moneypenny today.

“No, 007, she’s not just that to you.” Moneypenny sighed, even as she gestured for him to go on ahead.

James did not say anything. How was he to explain that to him, she was a goddess? He executed missions upon her command, reported to her upon their completion and accepted any reward or punishment that she deemed fit. At times, he felt that he served not his Queen and country, but her and her alone.

M. She was the lady who dwelt at the deepest corner, the very bottom of his heart. Despite his never-ceasing parade of female conquests, only one woman was a permanent fixture in his life. His boss. His queen. His goddess.

He may have irked her with his insouciance and banter, but that was only to hide the fact that she was the reason he got up every morning. Fighting for Queen and country was all very well and good, but M was the one who had approached him all those years ago to recruit him into the Service, back when his parents had first died. Orphans made the best recruits, she always said.

James wondered sometimes if she knew that she held the power to easily break him in her deceptively small hands. He smiled to himself ruefully. Of course she knew, she had been a double 0 agent. He was more than willing to dance to her tune however, as long as she remained a part of his life.

* * *

 

When James entered M’s office, he saw M activate the system that would initiate a privacy lock on her office. No one would disturb them till further notice. Internally, James winced. M usually locked up her office only if she was preparing to deliver a lengthy and blistering dressing down to one of her agents.

Sure enough, ten minutes later, it was all James could do to hang his head as M tore him a new one in regards to the Incident, for the damage that he did to the Embassy. It had been a careless move on his part, he admitted, not destroying the camera before he had shot the man. A spy who got himself filmed so publicly was a soon-to-be useless spy, in this age of technology. He was lucky that the camera only caught the top of his head and his profile.

“I'm sorry, Ma’am,” James apologised quietly, standing with his hands clasped behind his back, feet slightly apart. He darted a glance at M, who still looked irate.

He shifted slightly. While M looked sexy to him even when angry, he would never purposely make her furious by intentionally causing trouble during mission. He was too much of a professional for that. Yet, he could not help but try to hide the fission of arousal that sent pulses of excitement through his cock.

“...And remember, Bond, you’re no use to me dead or compromised!” M finally paused to draw breath in the middle of her tirade. That got a reaction from the heretofore motionless agent. Bond appeared to take a deep a shuddering breath before looking at her with hooded eyes. He said lowly, “I will always come back to you, M, as long as you’ll have me.”

M regarded her wayward agent suspiciously. Did he think that declarations of loyalty would save his head? “But you never listen, Bond!” M all but snarled back, tossing her head in away that caused her ample bosom to bounce heavily.

His next move took her entirely by surprise. Sinking gracefully to his knees, he raised his head to maintain eye contact. “Teach me, Ma’am. Teach me to please you.”

M inhaled sharply. The sight of Bond on his knees in front of her did more things to her than she’d care to admit. A man thirty years her junior finding her attractive was a surprise in itself. When that man was Bond, it seemed to verge into the realm of fantasy. Yet a quick look down showed that Bond’s extremely erect cock was tenting his pants rather obscenely. It set her pulse racing. Only reason and logic stayed her hands.

M. Willing her to see his sincerity, James waited with bated breath and she regarded him with an intense, piercing gaze that caused him to become even harder. “M...” He might be suave and carelessly charming with other ladies, but not with M. Never with M, for she mattered too much to him for that. In front of her, he found himself acting like an awkward teenager, doing whatever he could to get her attention, whether positive or otherwise.

“If we do this, nothing can change. No one can know. Do you understand?” M’s voice, to James, was like sweet nectar from heaven.

“Whatever you want, Ma’am.” James replied swiftly. And he meant it. Whatever she wanted, he would risk death, and had risked death many a times, to deliver. He dropped his shields and laid himself bare before her, letting her see anything that she might wish to read. And that sent a frisson of fear down his spine, a natural reaction to danger. For he was well aware that she could break him with a single, well-aimed word. Coupled with M’s proximity, his body instinctively reacted. His cock became harder.

“We’ll see about that.” M said coolly, appraising. “Strip.”

James did not hesitate. He rose and stripped quickly and efficiently. Whatever punishment awaited him he would gladly take it and more, for it represented one thing; greater intimacy with the woman he respected and love. The head of MI6 did not punish her wayward agents by ordering them to strip stark naked. Currently, M was so much more than that in her interactions with him.

After stripping, James remained standing, hands clasped behind his back, awaiting further instructions. He made sure that his shoulders were slightly hunched in a display of submission; he didn’t want M to think that he was aggressively flaunting his nakedness, what with his height, build and gender.

Of course, this also meant that his painfully erect cock was on display for her sharp gaze. He couldn’t help shifting uncomfortably as M gave him a once-over. There was something to be said for him being naked whilst M remained clothed. The disparity of power humbled him...and aroused him.

Raising an eyebrow, M commanded, “Over my knees, Bond”, as she seated herself in the armchair that James had previously vacated. Flushing slightly, James did as ordered. He had a good idea of where this was going, and found that he was actually not unamendable to the idea. He looked at her bare hands, imagined those hands on him, spanking him hard, then...

Picking up his belt from the floor, James folded it into half and offered it to M with mild regret. “I don’t want you to hurt your hand, Ma’am.” Without pausing to observe her expression at his rather presumptive gesture, he lowered himself over her knees, taking care not to rest his full weight on her.

M was touched. Staring at the belt in her hand, she couldn’t help but feel a tingle of warmth at the thought that even vulnerable and waiting punishment, the man’s foremost thought was of her well-being. It was enough to allow her to temporarily push down the misgivings that she had about this new aspect of their relationship. Stroking his hair once softly, she let no hint of it show in her voice as she said, “Ten strokes, Bond. I want you to count them.”

A pause, then Bond replied, “Yes, Ma’am.”

James suppressed a whine as the first blow landed, sending fiery pain through his arse. By god, but the woman had a strong arm! He’d been tortured many times over the years and his Resistance To Interrogation training scores consistently ranked within the top five, but he did not use any of the techniques that he was so proficient in against this spanking. He would take everything coming his way as it was, simply because M thought he deserved it.

“One.” He counted out hoarsely, feeling his cock throb against M’s dress. It had not lessened in the slightest at the pain and wasn’t that a surprising thing to learn about himself. But no, he only reacted this way because it was M, M who was doing it to him. James thought that M could have been flaying him alive and he would probably still respond, as long as she looked at him with those beautiful, intense blue eyes of hers.

He counted out three more blows before he felt M’s hand caressing his back. “Dear boy, this is not torture. You’re allowed to react.” James felt a full body shiver come over him; his body’s involuntary reaction to M’s tenderness. In front of M, he was as bare and defenseless as a newborn babe.

“M...” He sighed out as his body relaxed into M and the armchair. When the next blow fell, he allowed the shudder to show but he still suppressed his own moans, not wishing M to see him screaming like a little child.

Truth be told, he was a little surprised by his own reaction. He had endured worst torture at the hand of every villain he’d ever met, yet a few strikes from M had him shuddering in reaction. Perhaps it was simply because she was M. If he was a puppet, M would be the master that held his strings.

When the eighth strike fell, he knew immediately that M was no longer using the belt. No, this was the palm of her hand. James could not helped it any longer. He moaned, before pressing his arse backwards, wanting more contact with her. Even if it caused him pain, even if it came in the form of a hard spanking. He’d still take it. God, he was desperate for her.

Strike number nine was harder than the last. James was no masochist, but he found that the pain that rippled through him was deliciously exquisite. Somewhere along the way, the lines between pleasure and pain had blurred for him; he felt himself relaxing into the warmth of M’s hands and she pressed against his arse cheeks with a firmness and surety that belied her age. Fingers dipped between his arse cheeks tentatively. Heavens above, didn’t she know that he’d welcome anything she did to him with open arms? Even if she had wanted to penetrate him brutally, he’d gladly take it.

James Bond was a connoisseur of sex. His body was a weapon that he used in service of Queen and country. He had lain with men and women both, he had fucked and been fucked by countless others. He was also intimately familiar with the pain and pleasure games associated with fucking. Something as tame as taking a spanking was a dime a dozen on his missions. Usually, when James was with another woman, by this stage in the spanking he’d have turned the tables on the lady in question with his cheekiness and suave smoothness. With M, he simply had no desire to do so, content to lay under her. This was not merely a dominance game to him; it was all he could do to allow his true reactions to show. When he strangled out a moan and pushed back into her hands in encouragement, she started playing with his hole with lingering caresses and sharp pinches to his rim.

James meant what he said; he wanted to be taught to please M. Even if the pinches were getting uncomfortable, even if his cock was rock hard and agonizingly painful, it did not cross his mind to put a stop to M’s actions. Instead, he brought to bear all of his formidable discipline to hide his distaste, choosing to lean back into her touch.

Yet M must have read the lines of his body like an open book, for she ceased the torment and softly kneaded his bruised arse cheeks, giving pleasure to his body once more.

When the last strike finally landed, James felt that he was but one single touch away from cumming on M’s dress. “Ten! Ma'am! Please!” He begged, allowing his desperation to show, sliding to his knees once she had released him, uncaring of the image he presented. Gone was the debonair double 0 agent. In his place, only a man desperately in lust, and love, remained.

“Please, please let me cum?” James pleaded even as he made sure to keep his arms locked behind his back. If he did not do so, he was certain that he’d lose whatever remaining tendrils of self-control he had and start wanking furiously. He did _not_ want to disappoint M.

The glint that sparkled in M’s eyes was a familiar one to James. It was the one she wore whenever she got a dastardly evil idea, ideas that had ended the regimes of foreign dictators and destroyed drug cartels. To find the full force of it focused on himself sent tingles of thrill and danger down his spine.

“And if I say no? What then, dear boy?” M arched a perfectly trimmed eyebrow regally.

James had to suppress a wail of despair at that. At the same time, he felt his cock grow impossibly harder. Alright, so maybe he was a masochist after all. Though he wryly acknowledged that it was likely because he was with M; he'd be _anything,_ if it pleased her.

M smirked in that knowing way of hers. She bent down, giving him an eyeful of her cleavage. “I’m saying no.”

This time, James allowed a whimper to escape his lips. Because there was only one conceivable response that he could give to that order.

“Yes, Ma’am.” James replied hoarsely as he bowed his head in submission, feeling the weight of M’s dominance settling around him like a warm and heavy blanket.

He would walk out of her office with an erection tenting his pants if that was her wish, but he was uncertain if she wanted to flaunt this around headquarters, given her rather adamant insistence that no one could know about them. “May I get rid of my erection, Ma’am?” James asked cautiously, looking up to gauge M’s reaction.

M inclined her head sharply, and her interested gaze settled on Bond. She had to admit it; she was curious about what actions Bond would take to be rid of his erection. Would he find a loophole, as all double 0 agents were taught to do? Or would he…

She watched his implacable determination as his jaws set before he took his cock into his right hand. Then, with a sharp twist of his tender foreskin that had M wincing mentally in sympathy, he delivered what must have been nigh-unbearable agony to the most vulnerable part of his body. Bond’s erection wilted immediately. And yet, only a soft gasp escaped his lips in reaction to the pain he must have suffered.

It touched something in M, to see Bond take the simplest, most effective, yet most brutal way to obey her orders. Tugged on her heartstrings. In that moment, M felt impossibly fond of the man kneeling at her feet. She might be the Evil Queen of Numbers, but perhaps she could have this one, small indulgence. Giving in to the impulse to comfort him, she carded her hands through his short hair in a soft caress.

“My dear boy…”

Perhaps, just perhaps, this would work out after all.


End file.
